


from our own separate sides

by vandoorne



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Dubious Consent, Grinding, M/M, Masturbation, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 17:59:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12304575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vandoorne/pseuds/vandoorne
Summary: max and dan share a bed.





	from our own separate sides

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ellie_mayflower](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellie_mayflower/gifts).



> because [this](https://twitter.com/LukeSmithF1/status/916921039120064512) happened.

Max is awake.

He's vaguely aware of his surroundings — the morning light wafting into the room through the half-drawn blinds, the soft whirr of the air-conditioning, the gooseflesh that breaks out on his skin momentarily, feeling the chill. He reaches out to tug the duvet away from Daniel. Or at least, he makes a half-hearted attempt to. He doesn't want to wake him, especially not when they're like this. Legs tangled up with each other, and Max is _pretty_ certain that Daniel is still asleep. His breathing is even, he can feel the rise and fall of his chest against his back. Anyway, if he were awake, he would move his hand away. They share a bed, sure, but their relationship certainly doesn't involve shit like Daniel draping an arm across Max's hip to be something on the level of acceptable.

That, however, is the least of Max's worries. The real worry is how he has gotten himself into this position, where he can feel Daniel's arousal, pressed up against the cleft of his ass. Then again, that wouldn't be so much of a problem as well, if Max could just get up from the bed, and leave Daniel alone to settle his, uh, problem. Thing is, Max is hard too. It's embarrassing, really. There's a wet spot on the fabric of his boxers already, and every tiny movement he makes only serves to make things worse.

He wills himself to lie still. Screws his eyes shut, hoping that if he doesn't move, doesn't do anything, his erection will go away. He tries to think of something that will kill his boner — tries to concentrate on a circuit, Singapore maybe. Tries to visualise the run up to turn one, and then turning in, keeping it tight, turn two, turn three, turn four, step on it down to turn five and _fuck_ —

It's not working. Daniel shifts a little, pressing closer. Max can feel his hot breath on his neck, Daniel's legs against his, the drag of hair on his skin against Max's own. If anything, it only serves to make things worse. Daniel's bare arm on his skin is a heavy weight, and Max swallows hard, thinking of how Daniel must be like behind him. Clad in a thin white singlet, with a tent in his boxer shorts. Pressing ever closer. Fuck, Max is so aroused that every single goddamn movement, just Daniel _breathing_ behind him is unbearable. He tries not to squirm, tries not to move. Or maybe he _should_ move, he should get up while he still can. But on the other hand what if Daniel wakes up? He's wearing a faded Toro Rosso shirt and a pair of boxers, should've worn those sweatpants instead but it's too late for regrets now. Anyway, his pair of grey sweatpants wouldn't hide that wet spot either, if anything, it would make things worse. But yeah, god. It doesn't matter that Daniel's hard too, if Daniel catches him like this? Fuck, he'll never live this down. Daniel would be insufferable, teasing him at every instance, and all that he would be able to do would be to snark back in a pathetic attempt to defend himself.

So okay, think Max, think. Daniel may sleep really heavily sometimes but shifting his arm away and untangling his legs would definitely wake him. What other alternatives does he have? Wait this out and die of persistent arousal? He's sweating it now, underneath what little of the duvet that he managed to tug out from underneath Daniel's arm. Then oh, Daniel shifts again. His hand falls lower, fingers brushing against his thigh, _so dangerously close to his cock_.

Max can hardly breathe like this. He's all too aware of Daniel's cock pressed up against him, all too aware of his own arousal, all too aware of Daniel's proximity and god, he can't help but wonder, what if he grinds up against Daniel? Would he be able to get away with it? And okay, would it be so bad? Like, Daniel is kind of attractive in his own right? Wait no, how did his train of thought even get there? It's not about _Daniel_ , no. It's about _this_ shitty situation that he's found himself in now because they share the same fucking bed.

And well, to be perfectly honest, Max is pretty surprised that they've managed to last like this for so long without ending up in this sort of scenario. So. Well. Decisions, decisions. To escape now, or to wait it out? Or maybe...

Max takes a deep breath and arches back against Daniel, just a little. He moves, slowly, grinding against Daniel. Daniel lets out a low hum, sounding pleased. Max freezes. Is Daniel awake? Max stills, willing Daniel to stay asleep. The wait is agony, worse than waiting for the five lights to go out at the beginning of each race. 

Daniel's breathing remains even behind Max. His hand remains on his thigh, and the warmth from his palm is killing him.

So right. Okay. This is it. Max isn't going to be able to hold himself back any more. He shoves his hand down his boxers, bites back the urge to sigh in relief because fuck, _finally_. He spreads the wetness across the tip on to his hand to jerk himself off, hips snapping forward as he thrusts into his palm. It feels so fucking good to be able to touch himself, but fuck, it doesn't seem to be enough. He shuts his eyes, thinks of someone else touching him, another hand sliding down his stomach, lower, _lower_... And his thoughts drift to Daniel, unbidden. In his head, Daniel murmurs, 'you like this, Max?' Daniel's voice is low, rough with sleep and fuck, the heat pooling in his gut spreads further. His hand reaches for the waistband of his boxers, tugs it down for him, puts his hand on Max's guiding him. 'Or do you need more?'

'More,' Max chokes out. All rational thought is out of his mind now. He thinks of Daniel's hips jerking forward, grinding against his bare ass. Infuriatingly, Daniel does _nothing_ , and Max groans. ' _Dan_ , please.'

And then Daniel pulls down his boxers too, freeing his hard cock, and Max gasps, thinking of Daniel's cock, rubbing against his arse, pressing into the crease between his thighs. Daniel's cock rubbing against his balls. Daniel's stubble against his neck.

Max doesn't dare to open his eyes at this juncture, fuck if he's going to break this fantasy in his head. He's biting hard on his lower lip now, breathing coming in harsh gasps, hand wrapped around his cock, rutting against Daniel's cock. He's so close, _so fucking close_. All it takes is for Daniel's hand, fingers unfurling and splaying on top of his thigh, where the fabric of his boxers end, as if he _knows_ just how badly Max wants to be touched, and Max is coming into his hand with a muffled grunt. He comes so fucking hard that he's unable to do anything but lie there on his bed, trying to catch his breath, cock still sensitive in his palm.

Max's lips had been dry, and all that biting he had been doing is making it bleed now. He shifts, and that's when he becomes aware of the dampness against his ass. _Daniel_. Oh fuck. Max feels his cheeks burn, shame and mortification floods through him. God, what the fuck has he done? He took his pleasure from his teammate while he was sleeping. Fantasised about him. Sure, if anything, when Daniel wakes up, it can always be explained as just a wet dream. Who doesn't have wet dreams anyway? But even if he can pretend, that doesn't change the fact that all this has happened. That spark of desire had been there, however fleeting. His stomach turns, and he scrambles to extract himself from Daniel, not caring if he wakes up any more, almost tripping over his feet as he runs to the bathroom.

 

Max is gone now. Daniel shifts on the bed, staring at the ceiling, hardly able to believe all this has happened. He had been awake mostly after Max had started rutting against him, and wondered if Max had just been dreaming. But before long he had heard the tell-tale sounds of Max jerking off — clothes rustling and a choked gasp. Daniel had done his best to ignore everything, trying to stay still and keep breathing properly while Max was a hot mess right next to him. That however, had all went out of the window when Max moaned his name. From then on he had been more than willing to see this entire shitstorm through. Just to, you know, know how it would feel to have someone you kind of have ~~brotherly feelings~~ mild waves of attraction for try so hard unknowingly to make you come in your sleep.

Sometimes, Max jerks off in their bed, back towards Daniel when he thinks Daniel is asleep. Sometimes, Daniel wonders if he should offer to give him a hand, so as to speak, but he never gets around doing so. And now it's come to this. Daniel lies flat on his back, duvet bunched up around his waist. The air-conditioning is cold but he's sweating, his singlet sticks to his skin, his boxers feel disgusting, and he wonders.

**Author's Note:**

> title from brothers on a hotel bed by deathcab for cutie.


End file.
